Fascinating
by SapSorrow
Summary: Many things are fascinating to Spock, none of them more so than one illogical, distracting human. K/S one shot and a little look in Spock's brain!


**Fascinating**

This is a universe full of colour and shape, numbers and patterns, formulae and design, diagrams and construction. So much to see and so many questions to ask. So many answers to every question and every answer is the start of innumerable questions more. Query and response. Wonder and discovery. It is endlessly fascinating.

It is a surprisingly child- like quality, the propensity for wonder and he has it in an abundance that almost startles him when he stops to think about it. He does not stop to think about it often, does not like to look inwards if he can help it when there is so much out there to see.

There are universes of all sizes, from the panorama of stars to the scatter of raindrops on a leaf. He could spend the same amount of time studying each under the right circumstances. Each new theory, conclusion, idea or thought has its own degree of fascination. It barely matters if the thing that sparked the idea is mundane or extraordinary if the outcome is the discovery of something new.

Sensation can be the most fascinating thing of all; the analysis of his own perceptions occupying a large part of that ever busy mind. The influx of sensory perception can be too much to deal with, especially for a Vulcan. Sounds and smells resonate strongly with memory and association. The faint smells of incense and sunlight that resonate of childhood, home and loneliness. Or the rush of water, invigorating, new and fresh. The attempt to reduce sensation, to clear the mind, often only reminds him that there is no such thing as silence, perhaps no perfect peace.

Peace would be welcome sometimes, though the rush of input the world delivers to the brain never ceases to fascinate. He suspects that it never should. The universe is a wild rushing place, sometimes when he sits still enough he could swear he can feel it move. Sometimes it threatens to overwhelm him, sometimes he can move with it. Always, it is fascinating.

Looking inwards is _not _fascinating. Indeed it is the most deeply uncomfortable feeling of all. Sometimes he sees one thing, sometimes another, sometimes everything at once and he feels like a great complicated mess that nothing could ever make right, a strange weird thing that never _should _find that peace. He wonders how he appears and if others see what he sees. He suspects not.

He has long since realised that no two people see the same thing. Humans. Humans do intrigue him, much as he would rarely let on. _They _are endlessly fascinating – infuriating and illogical though they are. They rarely do what is either sensible or expected and this can have both wonderful and disastrous results. They make it immeasurably hard to detach, hugely damaging to all attempts to first erect emotional walls and then deconstruct and live without them as he feels he should. He suspects that living with, almost loving, humans as he does, he will always fail even to fully construct a functioning wall around himself.

It would help if there was not just that one human in particular. The one who exists, it seems, to break walls, to shatter reason, to tap straight into the heart he wold rather ignore. This human is sunshine on the waters, the splash of gold amongst the leaves. This one has eyes like the sky at midday – to look too closely would be to put oneself at great risk. Spock is not afraid of risk. This one is his, and he is more fascinating than all the rest of everything put together.

Spock will probably never know what it is. Why he will never fathom this impossible human. He only knows that when he looks at him his brain crumples up, his skin tingles, chest tightening, that pounding ache in his side as he heart beats against the current of logic. He knows, because he has heard, that this is probably love. He knows it hurts when he is not there, that he would do anything imaginable to keep him safe, that he belongs at his side and that this human is his and only his. He aches if anyone else moves in, if they even stand to close. He would kill for him in a heartbeat. He makes him alive, makes him good, makes him almost _right._

He knows the near future right now. That later tonight he will sit on the floor of his room, attempting to meditate. He will clear his mind over and over, never quite succeeding in clearing it of everything because peace is so very hard to reach. He will be just approaching that soft silent place when a voice will say his name aloud –

"Spock"

He will attempt to ignore it, to return to that place of near but not perfect peace. But he will be wondering how it will go now and not be able to concentrate – and then again –

"Spock"

- with a slight whine now, like a teasing child. He will breathe very deeply, but to no avail, and even though all real attempt has failed for good he will still pretend to ignore the human just to annoy him as he has been annoyed by him. But he will try and it will come again, like a song –

"Spo-ck".

He will open his eyes very slowly, patiently, wanting to not react at all. But his human, his T'hy'la will be sat right in front of him, smiling, golden and barely dressed and his heart will melt and the Vulcan part will wash away just after it cries –

"I-fam, Ashayam, namtor nash – veh toranik" but the human will pay no attention –

"Not any more you're not. Kiss me."

He will sigh, but how could he resist? Those eyes, that smile – he will cup Kirk's head in his hands, pulling him into a kiss, long and deep, savouring each sensation as it floods him body and soul. Rehydrated he will fall upon him like a cascade, crashing in, crushing, pounding, roaring like the waterfall until the crisis is over and he floats down the river of his human, whole, complete and finally in that place of perfect peace.

This is and always will be, the most fascinating thing of all.

_x_

**This is what happens when I try to meditate…not sure if that's a good or a bad thing!**


End file.
